Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
“We should go back inside,” I said the second that I got on the back of Kane’s bike. He’d suggested we take it, and I’d jumped at the chance. Initially, I’d jumped at the chance. The thought of being pressed against Kane, the fall air biting at us as we tore down the road… It promised an exhilaration I had loved in the past.
But now I was dressed, in jeans—no elastic waist to be found—and in a simple, long-sleeved top, makeup on and hair haphazardly curled. I was wearing shoes. Low heeled boots. Real people, adult clothes.
I’d longed for such things. Just like I’d longed for time with Kane, a ride on the bike. But straddling the bike, my body was frozen as I stared into the windows of our house. The curtains were drawn, so I could see light filtering out, and I swore I could hear a baby calling out for her mother.
Never mind that she couldn’t even form words yet.
“We are not going back inside,” Kane stated, putting a helmet on my head.
I scowled at him. “We don’t know her.” I pointed to the house again.
“We know Rowan, we know everyone else she is family with, and I know she has great taste in automobiles.” Kane motioned to the sleek car parked in our driveway. I couldn’t say much about it other than it was red.
I put my hand on my hip. “Seriously, we’re trusting our daughter with someone because they drive a nice car?”
Kane gripped my hips. “We’re trusting our daughter with someone because we know she’s good people. We’re trusting our daughter with someone because in order to get through this, we need to start trusting people, letting them in, letting them help. I promise you, Chef, it’s just as fuckin’ painful for me to leave Mae, and I miss her like goddamn crazy already. But we need this.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong. I knew he wasn’t. Even though my mother and Maisie were only a three-hour drive away and promised to make the trip as often as possible, they had their own lives. We did need to find some semblance of a support system here in Jupiter if we intended on it being home. As much as I loved Mabel with all of my being, I also understood that being a better mother meant sometimes taking time for myself.
I stared at him, then the bike.
“We don’t have a will,” I realized, horror buzzing beneath my skin. I’d had a list of things to get organized once the baby was born—life insurance, a will, a college fund. None of that had been done. “Or life insurance.”
“Unless you’re planning on taking me to a secondary location and murdering me, I think we’re okay,” Kane replied.
“We’re parents.” I smacked his shoulder. “We get into a crash on this thing and leave Mabel an orphan, there needs to be a plan in place for her care. I’m going to go back in and write a will.”
I climbed off the bike to do just that, but Kane caught my wrist, pulling me back to him.
“Chef, you’re not going to write a will tonight, and we’re not going to crash.”
“You can’t know that,” I argued, panic well and truly seizing my lungs at that point.
He arched a brow. “I’ve got more than a few medals to communicate how I can know that.”
“I’ll remind you, I’ve seen you crash,” I told him. It was a low blow, but I was frantic.
Kane didn’t seem bothered, merely grinning. “An anomaly. One never to be repeated.” He put his hands on either side of the helmet. “Get that you want to take care of our girl, and I also get that your brain is your worst enemy right now. So how about we give it a break with a ride, me fuckin’ you either in the bathrooms of a dive bar or over this very bike on a beach somewhere. We get a drink, come back then write wills.”
My mouth filled with saliva at the thought of sex, public sex with Kane. Since the first time, we’d caught moments to ourselves when we could—in the kitchen while Mabel napped, in the living room, pretty much in various rooms of our house while the baby slept. Each time we were quiet, rushed, mindful that she could wake at any moment.
Though the new, fragile part of me that was now a mother urged me to go inside, I held onto Kane’s gaze and let him put me on the back of his bike.
Once we got going, Mabel was a constant worry at the back of my mind. Though that worry quieted under the purr of the bike, the exhilarating speed of us hurtling down coastal roads. My arms tightened around Kane, dipping my fingertips under his tee then down to the waistband of his jeans.
Then … lower.
His cock was hard underneath my palm.
There was a thrill in resting my hand there. I wasn’t going to move it; I didn’t think that was responsible. But the potential of my doing so was enough.
We didn’t ride very long. Kane pulled the bike off to a side road then into an empty beach parking lot. The sun set earlier that time of year, so the dusk made it so we were barely seen when he shut the lights of the bike off.
As soon as he did that, Kane hoisted me off the bike, helmet flying off.
He didn’t speak as his hands dove into my hair, tugging the tie from my hair then pulling at the strands.
I kissed him back with the same ferocity. There it was… What we’d been muting, tempering in the house with a sleeping baby. Now there was nothing but open air, waves crashing against rocks and sand, the low hum of a car driving past, the hazy illumination of our shapes from headlights.
We were almost entirely obscured from the road. A passing driver couldn’t see us, but if you pulled into the parking lot you could.
My heart pounded.
Kane’s teeth were at my neck as his hands plunged into my jeans.
I gasped as he bypassed my panties and went right in.
He let out a low hiss as his fingers found me wet.
He didn’t say a word as he unbuttoned my jeans, forced them down and turned me around, hand going to the small of my back and pushing me down.
My palms steadied themselves on the seat of the bike, nails scratching at the leather.
Kane steadied me with one hand on my hips as he freed himself then without pause, he slammed into me.
He’d been careful before this, mindful of my body, worried about me healing.
He wasn’t worried about anything now.
We weren’t Mom and Dad. We weren’t anything but two animals under the moonlight.
He bunched my hair in his hand then wrenched it back.
My scalp radiated with glorious pain as the rest of my body succumbed to inconceivable pleasure.
He continued pounding relentlessly. My mind went hazy as my body shuddered and exploded over and over again.
How many times, I couldn’t know. Eventually, Kane growled, roaring as he released into me.
We were both panting heavily when we were done. My limbs burned.
Carefully, Kane pulled out of me, slowly raising my jeans back up and buttoning them while I steadied myself on the seat of the bike.
He turned me around, kissing me gently on the lips. I could feel his smile.
“Hottest piece I’ve ever had, Chef. After giving birth to my baby…” His hands ran over me. “Fuck…”
I couldn’t help but smile back, my body singing with electricity.
“How about we get a drink, greasy food, then repeat this on the way home?”
I couldn’t think of anything better.
I held my breath as we walked in the door of the house. It wasn’t completely dark, but all the overhead lights were off, and only the soft lamplight from the living room illuminated the house. The TV was on, and Calliope sat on the sofa. Not looking at it—instead, tapping on her phone, a glass of wine in her hand.
She glanced up at us. “This is my first one.” She held the glass up. “I didn’t sit here and get drunk with your baby, don’t worry. Though it was tempting; you have good wine.” She drained the glass then stood up, glancing between the two of us.
She wore a knowing smile. “You had fun.” Not a question, and somehow, it communicated that she suspected we took her advice about public sex.
I didn’t blush nor feel embarrassed, for whatever reason. Maybe it was because I was thoroughly satisfied or because I felt comfortable with Calliope.
“Fuck yeah, we did,” Kane beamed back at her. “We’re gotta send you a fruit basket or something as a thank you.”
She shook her head, reaching down to snag the bottle of wine and shove the cork back in it. “This will do,” she said, shaking it.
“Where’s the baby?” I asked suddenly, as if I were just noticing Mabel wasn’t there.
“Sleeping,” Calliope replied. “She’s been down since about seven-ish.”
I stared at her. “Down?”
“In her bed.”
“In her bed,” I repeated, dumbfounded. “How did you do that?”
Mabel did not just ‘go down’ in her bed. There was rocking. Feeding. The arm drop test, a tense transfer. And then only 50 percent of the time it worked for an hour, at most, before the whole dance started again.
“She was tired. I fed her, burped her, put her in her swaddle suit thing and read her a story. Told her it was time to sleep, put her down then left the room.”
“Did she scream?” I asked, unable to hide my shock from my tone.
Calliope arched a well-manicured brow. “Not a peep. Babies don’t try that shit with me.”
I gaped at her. If she were anyone else and I wasn’t presented with the evidence of a quiet house and presumably sleeping baby, I would’ve called bullshit. Babies bowed to no master, except, it seemed, Calliope Derrick.
“Thank you,” was all I was able to say.
“I’m not gonna say ‘anytime’ because I’m not that good of a person, but we’ll make it a habit. And truly, anytime.” She gave me a wink then sauntered out the door, bottle of wine in hand.
Both Kane and I stood there, listening to the muted hum of her Porsche leave the driveaway.
And as if she sensed her leaving, Mabel’s low cry sounded.
Both Kane and I looked at each other then laughed.
“I got her, babe,” he said, kissing my head. “Go get ready for bed.”
“She may be hungry,” I reminded him, feeling my breasts for their fullness.
Kane waved to the kitchen. “Pump is sterilized and ready to go. You pump a bottle, then go get ready for bed. I got our girl.”
“You need sleep too,” I sighed.
“I needed your pussy, the sound of you and the feel of you coming. I can survive off that for at least another twenty-four hours.” He kissed me hard on the mouth.
“Pump,” he ordered. “Skincare, teeth, sleep.”
I did as he asked. And Mabel was up in another handful of hours. But I managed it, feeling refreshed, feeling less alone in Jupiter.
I had a family with Kane and Mabel.
And I had a village thanks to everyone else.
There were hard days, days when nothing more than coffee and Kane got me through. Even in the midst of those hard days, there was beauty. Mabel’s newfound voice, shrieking with glee as her cries of distress lessened. I was slowly getting less tense during her periods of contentment, no longer bracing and ready for a meltdown. I was … enjoying her. Enjoying motherhood.
Moreover, I was enjoying Kane as a father.
Though enjoy was an insufficient word for it.
He was endlessly patient with her, laying with her on a sheepskin rug most of the day, playing, reading, kissing her. He was besotted.
And he was an animal when it came to protecting her.
Especially since her existence and his location had officially become public record.
We’d known it was a matter of time, so Kane had begun making preparations for a media circus long ago. Our property—both our names now on the deed—had fencing all around it. Kane had bought the additional acreage on either side, both conveniently empty lots. The front of the driveway had a gate that required either a code or a clicker similar to one for a garage. That was the most recent addition, and all of the Jupiter crew were given the code since there was always someone popping in.
We couldn’t fence the beach since it was technically public property. But someone would have to walk for miles in order to make it to our property from the beach access. There were security cameras everywhere, motion sensors.
And then there was the dirt bike track that Kane was building on one of our new properties. He had said countless times that he was happy to be retired from competing and though he seemed sincere, I was still overcome with doubt.
“You don’t go from a life of excitement and constant movement to this,” I argued, gesturing to him on the ground with Mabel.
“If you’re really fuckin’ lucky, you do,” he countered.
I had been silenced then, overcome with emotion that I still didn’t feel equipped to deal with.
He said he was building the track in order to ‘fuck around,’ and apparently, get Mabel ready for her debut on two wheels. Though my anxiety about her general wellbeing was crippling, the image of her on a dirt bike racing through the woods didn’t spike fear inside of me. It made me smile, thinking of the mischievous and adventurous traits it was already apparent she’d inherited from her father. And I knew he’d be right there beside her.
The media was another story.
We weren’t even aware the picture had been taken, a rarity for Kane. Whenever we were out in public—which was more often now that Mabel had adjusted to being in the world and had calmed somewhat—he was on guard, watching strangers with hyperawareness, aware of who had a phone even pointed in our direction, anyone who looked at Mabel too long.
And plenty of people looked at Mabel.
She was, objectively, the most beautiful baby to exist.
She had her father’s dark hair, a full head of it since birth. Though it was inky black on the day she was born, it had lightened up over the past few months, strawberry blonde in the sunlight. There was enough of it now to tie into pigtails. Which Kane did. Every day, he sat with her and brushed her long hair, carefully and precisely tying two bows on either side of her head, redoing them until they were perfect.
She also got Kane’s wide, ice-blue eyes framed by dark lashes. She got my porcelain skin tone and my nose, small and delicate. Her rosebud lips only got fuller, and she had the chubbiest cheeks I’d ever seen.
Yes, she was gorgeous. And when you saw a baby with pink bows in her pigtails, being carried by a ripped man covered in tattoos, wearing all black with his hair tied back in a low bun and a look of utter devotion on his face, you stared.
We got used to it. Became a little more relaxed.
And then the photo happened.
Kane, holding Mabel. Thankfully, her face wasn’t visible, just the bows of her pigtails, but it was enough.
One day, our life in Jupiter was quiet, sleepy, comfortable. The next, reporters had descended. They formed a mob at the entrance to our house, the location had somehow been leaked.
They’d been at Nora’s bakery, swarming Kane, Mabel and me when we tried to enter. My blood pressure took off, and I panicked with the suffocating feeling of people closing in.
Kane, who had been clutching Mabel to his chest, had stiffened with fury, wordlessly handing her off to me as someone flashed a camera in her face.
I saw the clench of his fist, the writing on the wall. His expression was much the same as it had been in the kitchen with Gerald. But it was somehow … worse. More dangerous. Mabel was the most precious, innocent and pure thing in this world, and people were trying to tarnish her, capitalize on her. I felt consumed by rage, an insatiable need to unleash violence upon anyone near her.
Except there were too many people. And if Kane hit one, it would be immortalized in a photograph forever. His conviction had been overturned, but that didn’t mean something else couldn’t happen, that he couldn’t be taken away from us again. But I also couldn’t stop him from defending our daughter.
The door to the bakery opened, and Rowan rushed out, making a beeline for me and Mabel. Curling an arm around my shoulder, he hurried us inside. Not even vicious paparazzi dared block his path.
Kip came too, stepping in front of Kane. “Allow me, brother,” he said with a grin before punching a photographer in the face.
Then there was the incident at our house a few days later.
We’d been shaken by the scene at the café, but I’d finally stopped jumping at shadows. It helped, knowing Rowan and Kip were hard at work scaring every photographer off Main Street.
Kane had given statements via his publicist, giving not so veiled threats that he’d ruin the careers of any publication who published photos of Mabel.
There was not much more we could do other than ride it out.
Interestingly, this was the first time that I was calmer than Kane since Mabel’s birth. He was a thundercloud, stomping around the house, muttering about siccing Knox on every paparazzi in the vicinity.
I had left him to his mutterings, sitting outside with Mabel, feeding her.
Until a stranger with a camera came up the steps from the beach.
I didn’t so much let out a gasp before a flash of black came past me along with a yell to get Mabel inside.
I did so, heart galloping. Just as I closed the door, I heard a loud boom.
With a slack jaw, I realized that Kane was holding a shotgun and had fired it. I wasn’t sure if it hit the photographer or not. I surely hoped it didn’t.
Mabel whimpered, so I kissed her head, trying to calm her while watching Kane race down the beach.
My breathing didn’t regulate until I saw the photographer upright and running. For about two seconds before Kane tackled him.
Heart in my throat, I watched as Kane’s arms flailed, and his mouth moved rapidly before the photographer scampered off.
Kane walked back into the house, shotgun in one hand, camera in the other.
Closing my jaw seemed impossible.
He dropped both then took Mabel into his arms. “How’s my baby?” he murmured softly.
I just stared at him. “Where did you get a shotgun?”
“Baby gift,” he replied. “From Knox.”
I nodded, dragging a hand through my hair. That made sense.
“I don’t think that photographer is going to be quiet about that,” I told him.
Kane kissed Mabel’s head. “I hope to fuck he isn’t. I told him to inform his friends they wouldn’t get a warnin’ shot next time.”
I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. There was no point in even trying to dissuade Kane from such things. A stranger had taken a photo of me nursing his baby. He was lucky there had even been a warning shot.
Not long after that, there was a call from the gate. The sheriff, Finn, had arrived.
Kane greeted him with a smile and the offer of coffee.
Finn accepted it, friendly enough as he sat at the breakfast bar and smiled at Mabel. She smiled back, which was rare for her. She was an immensely happy baby with her father and me but was picky about which strangers she smiled at.
She was a mix of Kane and me, my ice and his fire.
After five minutes of small talk, Finn casually said, “Got a report of an attempted shooting from this property.”
“Is that right?” Kane replied just as casually, holding Mabel upright on the counter.
Finn nodded.
“They happen to mention they were trespassing and takin’ photos of my woman nursing my daughter?” He spoke in a calm tone, but it was impossible to hide his underlying fury.
Finn’s face became stony, no longer the friendly neighborhood sheriff. “They did not,” he murmured, putting down the coffee cup. “You got a permit for that?” He jutted his chin to the shotgun that Kane hadn’t even bothered to hide.
I’d have to have a conversation with him about deadly weapons being left around when there was a baby in our house close to crawling.
“Yes,” Kane lied easily.
If the gun came from Knox, there was absolutely no way he had a permit.
“Pftt.” Finn took another sip of his coffee. “Well, then I’m going to have to inform that photographer,” he snarled, “that he’s lucky I’m not charging him and inform him that I’ll have that same sensibility with any of his friends.”
The message was clear. The town of Jupiter, law enforcement included, was on our side. Everyone had closed ranks around us. This didn’t immediately stop the circus, but it helped assuage it.
Our life continued on.